It's Sunny Somewhere
by zookitty
Summary: It is sunny…somewhere. He is pretty certain of that. A Zane hurt/comfort fic.


**Gibberings: **This is my first--but hopefully not last--H2O story. I really hope you enjoy. The lack of Zane stories saddened me, so I thought I'd try and remedy that.

Major huge kuddos to Summer, Calification, for an amazing job betaing and really taking this story to the next level!

* * *

It is sunny…somewhere. He is pretty certain of that. Here, however, it's raining harder than he's seen in quite a while. His t-shirt is soaked and clinging to his body, his wet hair is falling into his eyes, puddles are starting to congregate around him, and he'd starting to wish he brought his jacket.

He wraps his arms around himself, as if that will really help. He shivers. It would be easy enough to get up and drive home—heck he could probably even find someone to give him a lift—but he can't bring himself to do it.

Not yet.

"Zane?"

He glances up and sees a familiar figure moving his way, fisherman's cap covering his blonde locks but also serving to deter the rain.

"What are you doing here?" Lewis asks, looking down on Zane for one of the few times in his life. The Bennet brother shrugs apathetically, hoping that the other guy will get the hint and leave him alone.

Unfortunately, none of this particular group of friends has ever been good at getting his subtler clues.

"Lewis, I…Zane? What are you doing here?"

He doesn't spare a glance for the brunette—he knows her voice well enough and he can easily imagine the look she is giving him.

"Sitting," he answers, hoping it came off more sarcastic than the dumb response it actually was.

"In the rain?" Lewis asks.

"Without a jacket?" Cleo adds, stepping closer. Zane is starting to think they know don't understand the concept of personal space either.

"I was just leaving," he tosses in heatedly. He gets to his feet, trying to ignore the wave of dizziness that rushes over him. The hand that suddenly steadies him tells him that maybe he didn't do as good a job at hiding it as he thought.

"You ok?" This time it's Lewis. The younger man's hand firmly clasps his shoulder and Zane doesn't shrug it off. He's a little afraid that the effort would floor him.

"Fine," he replies, finally regaining himself enough to move away. He turns down the alley and starts walking. His bike is parked around back, but he is starting to wonder if he can even make it that far.

He's almost there when the world grays out. He feels the unforgiving pavement slam against his knees.

When he opens his eyes again there's Cleo with a rare look of concern—even rarer considering who _he_ is. She says something over her shoulder, probably to Lewis. Zane realizes that they followed him but he can't bring himself to care. The allure of darkness is just a little too tempting.

_-_-_

It's warm somewhere. Of this he is pretty sure. Here, however, he is freezing. He is barely aware of his own restless tossing. Even having a snowball fight with Nate without his jacket, that one time they visited their grandfather, doesn't compare to this cold. This cold runs through him. All the way to the inside.

Zane moans. It sounds more like an almost feline meow. He feels something slide into his hand. It's warm and soft. It suddenly reminds him of his Mum.

The room smells too clean. Impersonal.

Then he smells strawberries. She'll never admit to using such a girly shampoo but the scent always follows her. Not that he goes around smelling her or anything…

"Zane?"

Her voice sounds nice. Almost lulling. He's tempted to go back to sleep—at least then he hadn't been so cold—but the thing in his hand presses harder and he suddenly knows what it is.

His eyelids peel open slowly and he fixes the blonde in his stare. She's in a chair beside him, perched on the very edge. She's not worried. No, the word for her expression is "scared." He can't stand to see her like that. He raises a hand—the one she _isn't _currently holding—and brushes his fingertips across her bangs.

"Hey Rikki," he whispers, feeling drained, as if the effort of opening his eyes and raising his hand was enough to wear him thin. Her face relaxes but the lines are still there. There's more. _Terrific._ "Rikki…what is it?"

She stands then, and he lets go of her hand begrudgingly. She paces for a few moments before turning and fixing him with her glare.

"How long have you been sick?"

He starts to protest and deny it…starts to tell her what she wants to hear, but he can't. He's tired and can't keep it up any longer.

"Three months."

_-_-_

It's sunny somewhere. That somewhere is here, finally. He kept telling himself it would be soon. He feels Rikki coming closer to his side in a way he would almost call cuddling if it were any other girl. She rests her blonde head on his shoulder, he leans his chin against her curls. The sun is rising slowly.

It's sunny here.


End file.
